Why I Hate Him
How It All Began
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Severus Snape did not notice as Potter
withdrew a particularly sharp dagger and approached it to his face. Only when
he felt cold steel touch his cheek, making a visible shudder run through his
entire body, did he look up suddenly, frozen in place.
“Potter, what...” he whispered in what was
obviously fear.
Snape’s heart nearly stop from terror. “
Snape nodded fearfully, barely knowing what he
was doing, shivering non-stop.
“
and I will make sure you beg for death
Snape did not dare move. He did not dare even
breathe. He felt the dagger move down, caressing his neck.
“What will you have me do?” he whispered.
Potter dragged the dagger down along his neck,
leaving a scratch. “Obey me. Obey me and I will think about letting you live.
Under my command. Or spend the rest of your life
begging for death. Now, you may speak. But be careful with what you say, as you
might survive this encounter - or you
might not,” Potter continued in the same menacing whisper.
Snape’s word of acquiescence sounded
reluctant, grudging, and terrified. It caused Potter to grin, snake-like, so
much that he resembled Voldemort alarmingly.
“Say it. Call me Master.” Snape felt the blade
dig deeper, drawing a drop of blood that rolled, slowly, down his neck and into
his collar.
“I am yours, Master,” he whispered against the
cutting steel. “Yours,” he repeated, feeling like his blood was frozen with
terror.
The
green eyes flashed in sadistic triumph. The words he spoke were formal, and it
had tricked him. Tricked him into unknowingly, magically binding himself into
slavery, of his own free will. “